


Castle of Glass

by kimannebb



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5311991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimannebb/pseuds/kimannebb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After several weeks Athos and Porthos go off to find Aramis at the monastery.  It's a not the joyous reunion they had hoped for as Aramis struggles to find himself and path.  They try and convince Aramis otherwise and persuade him to return to The Musketeers.</p><p>“Think he’ll be happy to see us?” Porthos asks.<br/>Athos inclines his head.  “I suspect so.”  He looks around and realizes they would arrive before dark.<br/>“Still don’t understand why he left.”<br/>“Being angry is not going to help.  He made a promise, one he felt he had to keep.”<br/>Athos could see Porthos turn his head toward him from the corner of his eye.  “You really believe that’s all there was to it?”<br/>He shrugs.  “It’s what he said.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castle of Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This follows canon until the last 10 minutes of S2, E10. In canon Athos already knows he has the regiment, and the war is starting two days after Aramis leaves. I needed more time, about 4 weeks between the time Aramis leaves and when Athos and Porthos go to get him. So that’s where it deviates from cannon, I tried to make it work within canon but accepted that it just wasn’t going to fit.
> 
> Posted for The Musketeers Fest 2015
> 
> Huge thank you goes to Liz (faradheia) and Mags (penguingal) for the cheerleader and beta. All mistakes are my own.

'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass  
Hardly anything there for you to see  
For you to see

*

The sun is shining for their return to the Garrison; however, Athos doesn’t remember the actual journey. He remembers the warmth on his skin and the sadness and anger radiating from d’Artagnan and Porthos. He isn’t feeling much of anything and would like to keep it that way by drowning any feelings that choose to surface, except that he needs to report to Treville. 

As they enter the Garrison’s courtyard they go separate ways; Athos climbs the stairs to Treville’s office and knocks on the door.

“Enter.” 

Athos comes to rest in front of the desk Treville sits behind and waits. He notices a blue sash and pauldron resting on one the chairs and recognizes it as Aramis’s. His breath catches in his throat and he moves to look over Treville’s head. But their eyes meet for a moment where Athos can see sadness and pity. He doesn’t want either.

“Aramis was just here submitting the request. I’m surprised you didn’t see him.” Treville states.

“We said our goodbyes.” Athos replies dully.

Treville nods and stands. “The King has appointed me Minister of War and I have accepted. This leaves an opening for a new leader of the Musketeers. I am appointing you Captain.”

Athos is startled. “I am not fit to lead anyone.”

“The men look up to you. I know you’re the right person.”

“When?” Athos knows a refusal is out of the question.

“Over the next several weeks I will be conferring with His Majesty regarding France’s position. During that time we will meet to discuss how to run the regiment. Start to ready the men for war, establish training exercises and evaluate who works well together so that you can assign them to groups.”

Athos nods. As he turns to leave his eyes are drawn to Aramis’s things, and without a second thought he scoops them off the chair and continues out the door.

He finds Porthos leaning against a column with his arms crossed staring at the ground. As he gets nearer Porthos looks up, sees what Athos is holding, squeezes his eyes shut, and looks toward the sky.

“He really left,” says Porthos.

“Yes.”

Porthos shakes his head. “Doesn’t make sense. This is his family. We are his family.”

Athos reaches out to squeeze Porthos’s arm. “I don’t think it was a decision he made lightly.” He swallows before continuing. “The Captain has taken the position as Minister for His Majesty and appointed me the new Captain of the Musketeers. I need you to be my second.”

Porthos's face shows surprise that quickly morphs into a smile. “Captain, eh? This mean I need to start callin’ you that?”

Athos rolls his eyes. “Nothing needs to change. You will need to assist me in training the men. The Cap… the Minister feels we have several weeks before a decision is made on war.”

“Train the regiment?” Porthos says gleefully and if Athos is honest with himself, he sounds almost evil. “I can do that.”

“Try not to permanently maim anyone.”

Porthos laughs loudly and Athos does not feel that’s a good sign but is pleased to see a more jovial set on his face.

* 

The horse is trailing behind Athos as he enters the courtyard to the Garrison. He doesn’t look around, just makes his way to the stables as he remembers the look of disappointment on Porthos’s face as he left. 

He went to meet her. Would he have left with her? Did he just want to say goodbye? Why had he allowed the feelings to resurface over these months?

It seems he will never be fully over Milady.

He leads the horse into it’s stable and removes the harness. It was foolish of him to head out without a plan or decision. 

Could he have left Porthos so soon after Aramis? 

Athos hears someone approach behind him.

“Did you see ‘er?” Porthos asks.

He shakes his head and brushes his hand down the horse’s flank. 

“Would you have left?”

“I don’t think so.” Even to Athos he sounds unsure, but as he pets the horse he realizes he wouldn’t have left. Being Captain, being with Porthos and d’Artagnan, this is where he belongs. 

“You need to be sure.” Porthos says.

Athos sighs. “Doesn’t matter. She’s gone.” Athos feels himself being physically turned and is met with Porthos’s angry stare.

“You need to decide to be ‘ere. You’re to be Captain, you have to want to be here, or nothin’ will work.” 

Porthos’s eyes seem desperate and Athos’s own widen in surprise. “I don’t know why I went. Nostalgia perhaps. My place is here with you. I know that.” 

It’s not a lie. Athos feels it deep inside and while he doesn’t know why he rushed off to meet her, he now knows that it was what he needed so he could focus on the future. A look of surprise flows over Porthos’s face but he must believe Athos since he just nods and walks off.

*

Athos watches the courtyard from above, just as Treville did, as several pairs of men are training. For the last two days he’s been observing and making lists of how best to create the smaller squads for maximum results. He’s made notes and has ideas but will wait until he can discuss it with Porthos before taking the final recommendations to Treville.

This means he’s been watching Porthos throw himself into training with a renewed vigor that has startled his fellow Musketeers.  He’s heard wages being made that forces the losers to go up against Porthos next. The situation would have been amusing except for the increasing number of limping and bruised Musketeers leaving Porthos’s sessions. He uses the meal break to finally pull Porthos aside. 

“It’s training Porthos,” Athos says.  “Not combat.”

“Not my fault if they don’t know when to duck.”

“No. But you must accept that they are not Aramis, they don’t know your moves like you are accustomed.”

Porthos glares at him and looks out over Athos’s shoulder and nods.  Athos reaches out and grabs the back of his neck above the blue training shirt and squeezes.  He feels Porthos exhale before turning and grabbing his own meal and sitting at the end of a bench, furthest from everyone. Athos grabs his own and sits across from him, kicking at Porthos’s feet as he settles. Athos is rewarded with a small grin between bites of food for the trouble.

“Lets go out tonight, after these trainin’ sessions,” suggest Porthos.

Athos nods. He hasn’t been drinking as much, something he started to make himself aware of after the events of rescuing Constance. He even kept on point while Milady was embroiled with His Majesty. He didn’t want to be the person that woke hung over every day, so he’s been making an effort to limit the bottles of wine he finishes.

That night as they enter their most frequented establishment, it feels out of balance.  The void where Aramis would normally reign is even more apparent as d’Artagnan spends the evening with Constance. With a start, Athos realizes that this is the first time he and Porthos are being social since Aramis left. Their time has been so occupied with learning their new roles that it never occurred to them to do anything other than retire to their quarters each evening.

Athos empties his cups, hoping to drown the painful feeling in his chest. He knew Aramis’s absence would be an adjustment but he hadn’t thought it would hurt this deeply. He doesn’t count the bottles that keep arriving at their table; he doesn’t slow himself or Porthos down. There isn’t much to say as the more Athos drinks the more aware he is of the missing person. He assumes it is the same for Porthos. As his vision blurs a stray thought crosses his mind of who will see them home.

When he wakes the next morning still in the bar with his head on the table and Porthos’s head on his shoulder he knows it can’t happen again. They are in charge of the regiment, the men look up to them; they can’t wake hung over like street rats.  And Aramis would disapprove if he ever found out.

Athos rubs his hands over his face and shakes Porthos until he grunts. The barkeep left some water in front of them and Athos drains one and pushes the other toward Porthos. 

“Drink it,” Athos commands.

Porthos sways as he sits upright but reaches for the cup. 

“We aren’t doing this again. It’s not respectable.”

Porthos snorts. “Since when did that matter?”

“Since we are now men of position.”

The cup pauses on the way to Porthos’s mouth and he glances toward Athos. “A’right.”

*

Athos is proud of how the men throw themselves into training, how everyone completes each task and never complains. At least not loud enough for him to hear. And he isn’t interested in grumblings. 

He’s leaning against a support column watching Porthos finish his last training session of the day. Athos is not surprised by Porthos’s talent to instruct, he’s very effective. Not everyone will enjoy the sessions and they might walk away with extra bruises, because Athos couldn’t change how Porthos fought - and why would he? - but they also know how to defend themselves more thoroughly.

As Porthos’s opponent struggles to rise from the ground, his lips twitch as Porthos laughs and reaches to pull him up. With a pat to his shoulder Porthos sends him off to grab a late meal and makes his way over to Athos, leaning against the other side of column.

“He did better this time,” says Porthos.

Athos hums in agreement. He takes in the near empty yard and enjoys the moment of calmness.

“I’ll have the assignments tomorrow. Treville and I made the final groups.”

“Good. They’re wonderin’ and I don’t think it’s been helpful not to be teamed up. They need time to work together, get to know each other.”

“Yes. I had to make assumptions about the assignments, there’s not enough time to do it the way I want.” Porthos shifts against the pillar and Athos feels him press closer from behind. 

A warmth radiates through the back of his shirt indicating how close Porthos leans toward him before saying, “Everythin’ can’t be perfect.”

Athos sighs as his thoughts shift to Aramis quickly, knowing that Porthos may have the same thoughts running through his mind. “Doesn’t mean it can’t be done right,” Athos says.

*

The monastery appears on the horizon.  A grey mark against an otherwise beautiful landscape filled with trees and sky.  With actual war still some time off, he and Porthos left the Garrison several days ago after getting Treville’s blessing to fetch Aramis. 

Athos assumes that Aramis is content, spending his days praying to a God he believes he owes something to. He’s unable to quiet the nagging feeling in the back of his mind as he truly does not understand Aramis’s choice to walk away from them. He accepted it readily at the time because he could see how much Aramis needed the approval and he was the only one able to provide it. So he did.

Athos is pulled from his musings by Porthos.

“Think he’ll be happy to see us?” Porthos asks.

Athos inclines his head.  “I suspect so.”  He looks around and realizes they would arrive before dark.

“Still don’t understand why he left.”

“Being angry is not going to help.  He made a promise, one he felt he had to keep.”

Athos could see Porthos turn his head toward him from the corner of his eye.  “You really believe that’s all there was to it?”

He shrugs.  “It’s what he said.”

“And Aramis never withholds information,” Porthos says, full of doubt.

He sighs; Porthos has a point.  Aramis is the approachable one, always quick to listen and help, but they know it’s what Aramis wants others to see.  He gives just enough truth that few ask for more. In hindsight, he should have recognized Aramis's distress but he was so distracted by Milady that he chose to ignore it, assuming Aramis would be able to handle it. They were all too preoccupied by personal matters to lend each other the support they needed.

The sound of the horse’s hooves is loud as they pass through the open gate and are immediately approached by a young man that offers to take their horses.  

Athos and Porthos slide from their saddles and collect their small packs as a priest approaches them.

“Good evening.  How can we help you?”

“We are here to see a friend.  Could you tell us where we can find Aramis?” Athos says.

The priest takes in their horses and packs and hesitates.  Athos tries to smile but he fears it’s more of a slight grimace.  “Yes we are Musketeers. We are not here on King’s business, but as friends.  I am Athos, and this is Porthos.”  He gestures toward his right.

“I am Father Pierre.  I must ask that you wait here to ensure your visit is welcome.  You do understand.”

Athos nods and takes a step back; however, he feels Porthos tense and reaches to rest his hand in the crook of Porthos’s elbow.  They stand in silence and after several minutes it becomes apparent that there is some delay.  Porthos’s question rings in his mind of whether Aramis would be happy to see them.  The longer Father Pierre takes to return, the more agitated Porthos becomes and Athos finds he has no words of comfort. He thought they would be welcomed and greeted with smiles. At least for their initial reunion since he does expect some resistance from Aramis on returning to the regiment.

Finally, a different priest appears and gestures for them to follow him.  With their bundles under their arm they walk into the building.  The priest says nothing and Athos is not inclined to inquire but he does follow closely.

The stone building is cool and dark with the candles sparsely spaced.  Their guide remains silent as he walks them through the first floor, passing a handful of others going about chores, and then out into a modest courtyard where the grass is lined with small bushes.  The courtyard is surrounded by more of the monastery on three sides.  On the fourth side a building stands alone and it’s where they are being led.

The priest stops a short distance away from the building and turns.  “I’m Father Lamy, the Abbot here.  I’d like to ask the nature of your relationship.”

Athos tenses.  “Why?”

“Aramis has been helpful, has done everything we ask and more when possible.  He keeps to himself, doesn’t mention why he’s here.  For many it’s personal and I don’t pry, but I had expected him to relax more.”

“We are his friends.  We serve in the same regiment,” Athos shares.

“Is there somethin’ wrong with him?” asks Porthos.

Father Lamy shakes his head.  “No.  He works hard, longer than most, eats little, prays much.  He rarely mentions friends. I have tried to speak with him, to encourage him to unburden himself, but he always seems to know my intentions and evades me. You must understand my concern; I do not want to see Aramis upset.”

Athos removes his hat and tilts his head.  “Thank you.  I’m glad to know that Aramis is cared for.  I can assure that we mean him no harm. We came to speak to him and request that he return with us.”

“I see,” Father Lamy says.  “Tread carefully.  I can see he isn’t truly happy here. We did try and draw him out during these short weeks, but he is intent on solitude.  He hasn’t opened up to anyone about what came before his arrival.”

He takes a step aside to allow them to pass to the building.  “You are welcome as long as you like.  There are extra rooms if needed.  You can find me just inside the main hall.” 

Athos watches the Abbot retreat into the main building. Dusk has fallen quickly and everything has a grey quality to it.  Athos looks at the building and feels apprehensive to enter.  Something in the way Father Lamy spoke of Aramis has him on edge.

Porthos nudges Athos in the arm.  “Are we going in?”

“Yes.”  And they turn as one and cross the distance to the door where he knocks and waits.

“Come in.”  

Athos pulls open the door and enters the small building.  The room is covered in fabric.  A wall of shelves holds various colors, all neatly folded.  There is a work station underneath the shelves that has sewing tools scattered across it.

His eyes land on Aramis, who is sitting in a chair between two small tables that each hold a burning candle.  Athos notices that there is a mound of clothing in his lap and the table to his right has spools of thread lined up in several colors.  

Aramis looks at them but does not move.  Athos hadn’t expected to be greeted with uncontrolled enthusiasm or undying praises of love, but he did expect common courtesy.  

Athos tosses his bag and hat against the wall and leans to his left, his hand naturally falling to the hilt of his sword. A second thump is heard and he assumes Porthos stowed his belongs there as well.

Athos tilts his head to the right to indicate he is waiting.  When nothing is forthcoming, Athos grabs a chair that was tucked under a table, flipping it around and straddling it. He can hear Porthos shuffle behind him and the scrape of his own chair.

“Did the time here erase your manners?” Athos asks.

“I’m surprised to see you.  When we parted I said this was something I must do.”  Aramis sounds sad but meets Athos’s eyes briefly before looking down to his lap to fold what he had been working on.

“What’s the matter with you?” asks Porthos, obviously unable to hold back anymore.

Aramis sighs but when he looks up there is a smile on his face.  One that Athos never thought would be directed at them.  “Nothing.”  Aramis approaches Porthos who stands and they share a hug.  

Aramis turns toward Athos and they share a short embrace before Aramis returns to his chair.  “What brings you here?”

“Not sure if you heard, but France is at war.” Porthos explains. “Well, will be at war soon.”

“I haven’t been paying much attention to anything outside these walls. We didn’t think things would escalate so quickly.”

“Surely you’ve left the grounds,” adds Athos.

Aramis blinks, barely showing a reaction but Athos notices the way his fist clenches.  He lifts a shoulder.  “Everything.  Are you here to persuade me to forge into battle with you?” Aramis asks with a grin.

“You need to be persuaded?” questions Porthos.

“My time here is not yet finished.  They need me.  I need more time.”

“Father Lamy made it seem that you have been struggling to acclimate,” says Athos.

“Father Lamy should mind his own affairs.”

“Aren’t you his affair though?  As the Abbott he tends to all those under his roof.”

Aramis shifts so that his hands are clasped and he leans forward.  “There are things I must reconcile myself; he doesn’t understand this.  It’s why I stay out here, it provides me privacy where I don’t need to explain myself.”

Porthos growls.  “Are we gonna do it like this?  Gonna pretend that you don’t look like shit?”

Aramis sits back with Porthos’s outburst but narrows his eyes.  “Nice to know that Father Lamy doesn’t hold much in confidence.”

“Aramis.  You say you aren’t ready to return.  Why?”  Athos asks gently.

“There is much to atone for and I made a vow. I cannot break it.”

“You followed through on that vow, and I realize it’s been a short time; now it’s time to serve your King and country once more.  To take up that vow.”

Aramis shakes his head.  “I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“Can not, will not, it matters not.  I need to stay here and find...”  Aramis trails off.  Athos raises his eyebrows and glances toward Porthos who looks confused and hurt.

“Where is d’Artagnan?  I’m surprised you aren’t all together,” Aramis says to change the subject.

Porthos, whose face is scrunched up as though he smells something unpleasant answers. “He stayed with Constance.  They married and we thought it would be good for him to spend more time with her before going to war.”

“Ah, newlyweds, they do have the most fun,” Aramis says with a smile, a genuine one this time.  “I’m sorry I missed the ceremony.”

“It was simple, nice.” Athos says.

With a gleam in his eye, Porthos adds.  “Athos walked Constance down the aisle.”

Aramis’s eyebrows rise and he looks at Athos in surprise.  “Really?”  His head cocks slightly to one side as he seems to look at Athos more closely.  “You look... better.  Lighter.”  He smiles.  “I approve.  It’s a good look for you.”

Athos nods.  “Yes.  I wish I could say the same of you.”  And just as quickly as the real emotions appeared on Aramis’s face, the carefully controlled blank look returns as he turns away from them to fiddle with an item on the table.

There is a knock at the door before more can be said. Porthos opens it to reveal the young man that greeted them earlier holding a tray of food that he pushes toward Porthos.  “Father Lamy thought you would be hungry from your travels and asked that this be delivered.”

Porthos takes the tray and gives his thanks.

“Will you be staying the night?” asks Pierre.

“Yes, thank you,”  Athos replies.

“I will prepare rooms for you.” 

“No. That won’t be necessary, we will stay here with Aramis.”  Athos sees Aramis turn toward him and can feel the glare like a physical blow.  Pierre looks confused but nods as he walks away.

Porthos closes the door and places the tray on the open table top along the right wall.  The tray is filled with cheese, bread, apples, and fish.

“Let’s eat then.”  Porthos says.  “I’m starvin’.”  He picks a few items out for himself, then a few more and hands them to Athos.  

Athos nods his thanks.  Aramis seems undecided but he finally walks over and takes a few items from the tray, then returns to his original place.

Porthos drags a chair across the small room to sit next to Athos.  “What’s it like here?” he asks.

“Quiet.  Peaceful.”

Porthos nods and pops a chunk of cheese into his mouth.  “What do you do?”

Aramis places his food on the table, only a piece of bread seems to be missing.  He lifts a hand as if to indicate the room. “I sew.  As you know I’m good with needlework and there was a vacancy.  I mend robes and other items for fellow monks and we have started making clothes for a nearby village.”  He shrugs.  “It keeps me busy.

Athos swallows his mouthful.  “I thought you would have been assigned multiple tasks.”

“Some do, some don’t.  I tried other chores but found this suits me best currently.”

“Why do you think that is?” Athos asks.  

Aramis squints at him.  “I’m enjoying the quiet.” 

“You don’t seem at peace to me,” Porthos mumbles around his mouthful.

“I didn’t say anything about being at peace, I merely mentioned I enjoyed the solitude.”

“To the point of exclusion?”

Aramis stands up.  “Don’t presume to understand from several moments of observation.”  He takes a deep breath.  “Athos.  What do you want from me?” he asks quietly.

“For you to rejoin us.”

“I can’t,” Aramis answers quickly.

Athos finishes his apple and rubs his hands together.  “Why don’t you sit down and eat something while we tell you more about the wedding?”

“More?” says Porthos.  “More than she walked down the aisle, there was a ceremony and then we had a meal?”

Aramis chuckles as he chews an apple slice.  “Did Constance look beautiful?”

Porthos smiles widely.  “She did.  They are ridiculously happy.”  He frowns.  “It’s sickenin’ really.”

“You always did have trouble with romance my dear Porthos.”

“I don’t.  Just would rather not have to see the love eyes every time they enter a room.”

Athos rolls his eyes and leans toward Porthos until their shoulders are touching.  “They aren’t that bad.”

“Ha!  He was so distracted during drills he allowed a new recruit to knock him on his arse.  All Constance did was walk into the Garrison.”  Porthos scoffs.  “Ridiculous.”

Aramis smiles and eats a piece of bread.  “Someday you will find that person that makes you look twice.”

Porthos smiles gently and looks down, humming in agreement.

They continue in this manner for some time, trading seemingly pointless news back and forth.  While Athos is a man that gets to the point using the shortest distance, forcing Aramis to share is not the answer. Athos knows he is hiding something from them and they will get to the bottom of it, but it was going to take more time. So they share tales of new recruits and other miscellaneous news.  By the time Athos runs out of small talk, Aramis has had a second helping of food and is smiling naturally.

Athos stands and retrieves his pack.  “It’s late. Why don’t we retire and we can resume in the morning?”

“You shouldn’t stay here; there are beds inside,”  Aramis points out.

“Are you staying here?”

“Yes.  I normally do.”

“No reason we can’t as well,” Athos reasons.

Porthos was already shaking out his bed roll seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

“Now who’s ridiculous?”  Aramis states.  He says nothing else as they ready their bed rolls, lining them up side by side to the left as much as possible and still leave a small walkway to the door.  Aramis tidies the back corner of the room where Athos can see a pile of blankets arranged carefully.

Aramis throws blankets in their direction.  “The floor is chilled at night, you may need these.”

After quick trips to relieve themselves, they settle down together with an efficiency born of many years moving side by side. Athos did think that their arrival would give Aramis pause in his convictions; instead it seems to have strengthened them. By the time they exchange good night pleasantries, Aramis looks as tense as he did when they first arrived.  Athos once again wonders what Aramis is thinking. He is not skilled at anticipating emotional turmoil; he can tell there’s something amiss, just not how to fix it.

Athos and Porthos shift on their bed rolls until their backs are pressed against each other.  Athos finds the quiet of the room and the breathing of the other two men comforting and doses off quickly. He’s awakened later by a noise that his mind doesn’t think belongs.  Porthos is still asleep so he stands and approaches Aramis’s corner.  As he moves nearer, Aramis sits up as if startled.

“Forgot you were here,” Aramis admits and runs a hand through his hair.

“You alright?”

“Fine.  Restless is all.”

Athos folds himself to the floor so they are face to face.  “You have nightmares often?”

“Sometimes. As I’m sure we all do.”

“What are they about?” Athos pushes but is greeted only with silence.  “I was once told that emotions were normal.”

Aramis huffs and then whispers.  “That is not what I said.”

“You get my meaning.”

“Not sure what you want from me.”  Aramis seems to slouch even more as he looks down at his hands.

Athos shrugs.  “Hard to say, I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.  Just trying to — find myself.”

“You aren’t lost,” Athos offers but Aramis makes a disbelieving sound.

“You have no idea, Athos,”  Aramis says quietly and rubs his hands over his face.

“Then enlighten me.”

Aramis meets Athos’s gaze and he can see fear, loathing, worry, sadness. Emotions that Aramis rarely allows to fester since he usually works them out in battle, drink, or women, and on more serious, but fewer occasions, discussion.

His offer is refused though with a quiet response.  “Go back to sleep.  Please.” 

Athos knows there’s no sense in starting a discussion and he couldn’t ignore the way Aramis’s voice pleads with him.  He returns to his spot next to Porthos, who has shifted slightly and is now on both bed rolls.  Athos quietly arranges himself so he leans against Porthos’s back. Before closing his eyes he looks toward the corner and finds Aramis watching him with eyes filled with what seems like regret. It’s then Athos realizes that Aramis is having a crisis of faith in himself, not necessarily his God. He is very much familiar with the feelings of self doubt and hatred although he cannot remember a time when Aramis suffered this affliction. He closes his eyes and slowly drifts back to sleep.

*  
   
The sun is high in the sky when Athos finally rouses himself enough to sit up.  Porthos and Aramis are quietly speaking across the room and stop when they see him moving.

“Good morning!”  Aramis exclaims and Porthos smiles brightly at him.  “Not like you to sleep so soundly.”

He leverages himself off the floor and bends backward to stretch his back.  “It happens time to time.”

“More lately though,”  Porthos offers.  “He’s leading the training of the men and keeps the recruits up longer.  Everyone’s sleep pattern is shifted.”

“Night training?”

“I think it’s necessary to change the routine so they don’t become complacent.”

“What is Treville doing with the extra time?”

Porthos laughs and startles them both.  “You don’t know.  Forgot you left before.”  He walks over to Athos and puts his arm across his shoulders.  “Athos is Captain now.  Treville is advisor to the King.”

Aramis blinks and in that second Athos can see surprise give way to apprehension.  “Are you going to order me to return?”

Athos is stunned and looks at Aramis.  “No.  I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want.”  He can feel Porthos squeeze his shoulder before gently pushing him toward the door.

“Let’s get somethin’ to eat.”  He looks over his shoulder at Aramis.  “You coming?”

Athos can see Aramis mentally prepare himself for something. He isn’t sure what’s causing the hesitation but Athos recognizes himself in these actions. Many days Athos warred with himself, wondering if he would actually report to the Garrison or if he was worthy of the uniform. Most mornings he was too stubborn to give in, using all his strength to function through the day only to lose himself in the bottle at night. Athos doesn’t have insight into what could be causing Aramis to act so much like him, but he doesn’t like it. No one should feel the way he did, so torn apart inside that he sometimes didn’t know which way to turn.

There’s no denying that Aramis is but a shadow of himself. Athos isn’t sure how he could have missed the shift, but he did. The last year has not been kind to them and while being distracted by one’s own problems is a valid excuse, it doesn’t change the fact that Aramis obviously needed someone and no one was there. They had failed him.

*

The monastery bustles with activity during the morning and afternoon hours.  Aramis leaves them to their own devices as he has a list of orders to complete, and Athos finds he has no idea what to do with himself. He can’t remember the last time he was so free.

He and Pothos take a walk; no one would allow them to help with any chores, and he couldn’t sit and watch others work. That’s how he and Porthos end up walking the grounds of the monastery before taking a rest against a large tree trunk in the shade.

“Didn’t think it would be this hard,” says Porthos as he picks at the grass by his leg. “Never thought he would refuse. But he doesn’t want to, does he?”

Athos squints up to the sky. “No he doesn’t.” He looks around and admires the landscape and the blueness of the sky. “Why do you think?”

He can feel Porthos shrug as the movement jostles his arm. “Don’t know. Think it has to do with the baby? The Queen?” 

“We aren’t going to the palace.”

Porthos grunts and shifts so that his feet are flat on the ground and his arms hang off his knees. “When he left, he seemed certain. If he wasn’t certain I wouldn’t have let him go. But now, seein’ him like this. There’s something else.”

“Agreed.” Athos leans to his right so more of his weight is pressed against Porthos. Athos enjoys the warmth for a few moments before adding, “We will get to the bottom of it. We know he belongs with us; we need to make him see that.”

*

They all take dinner with the rest of the residents and Athos is pleased to find that it’s much heartier than his meal with the nuns. The talk is quiet but everyone gets along.

Clean up is a group effort after which they retire to Aramis’s cottage. It’s obvious from some of the short conversations he’s had with others living here that Aramis only leaves the building for the daily main meal. He’s well liked and his work is praised. The idea of creating clothes for nearby villages was Aramis’s, so he’s taken it to heart to create as much as possible for those in need.

Once inside Aramis immediately lights candles and a golden glow infuses the room. Porthos is the last to enter and Athos hears the door close and the lock slide over.

“Are you to be leaving in the morning?” asks Aramis, his voice sounding hopeful.

“Depends on you. Are you comin’ with us?” Porthos replies.

Aramis turns and leans against the table with his arms crossed and looks at Porthos who is directly in front of him leaning against the door. Athos, who is between them, rests his shoulder against the wall facing Aramis. He would not have chosen outright confrontation; however, Porthos has his own mind. Finesse did not succeed the previous night, so perhaps a change was necessary.

“I will not break my vow,” Aramis starts but Porthos interrupts.

“Your vow? What about your vow to us? You walked away.” Aramis flinches as though he has been struck. Athos glances towards Porthos who seems determined to push forward through the badly chosen words. Aramis will never leave anyone behind; he knows what it’s like and would never. He did leave, but in his mind he said his farewells and left them in each other’s hands.

Porthos takes several steps forward. “We are a team. We don’t work as well without you.”

Aramis chuckles, but there is little humor in it. “Seems that you’re working just fine. In the weeks I’ve been gone, Athos is Captain, you’re his right hand, and d’Artagnan is married.”

Athos shifts and draws their attention. “I believe there are things we must discuss, in detail, and if after you wish to remain here, so be it. When you left you seemed content with the decision, if slightly sad. I do not see contentment. I see fear and self loathing.”

“You need to trust us,” Porthos says quietly.

Aramis visibly winces. “This has nothing to do with trust. Everything to do with me. I need to accept the consequences of my actions.”

The silence in the room grows heavy. As he watches Aramis stare at the floor with his arms tightly crossed Athos realizes that the pinched and closed off look on Aramis’s face is not the first time he’s seeing it. He remembers back to the months leading up to the trial and sees this Aramis in his mind. Not the one Aramis outwardly projected, with his grin and laughter, but one that was deeply troubled and keeping as much hidden as possible. 

They are going to need wine. Without a word Athos turns and leaves in search of a monk to help him find the drink. If the nuns were making their own, he’s sure the priests have something that they can use. 

Too many minutes later he finally finds a man to admit him to the wine cellar. And then more time to find one to actually provide him with it. Athos gives a hefty contribution of course, but it took entirely too much effort than he was used to when procuring wine. He returns to find Aramis sitting on the floor against the one free wall and Porthos lounging across a sea of fabric, blankets, and bed rolls.

“Thought it would be better,” Porthos offers as Athos finds a place to line up the bottles of wine. “He’s not talking though,” he adds and a quick look at Aramis shows his surprise at the comment.

“The wine should fix that.” Athos removes his boots, having no intention of going anywhere and grabs a bottle and mugs, lowering himself to the floor. “I feel slightly ridiculous.”

Porthos smiles and raises his eyebrows. “No bed to lounge on, I’m sure you can make do.”

Athos pours them each full mugs. Porthos smiles and swallows half in one go while Aramis holds his. “This is one of the things I gave up. It goes against the reason I’m here.”

“Just for tonight,” Athos offers. He hates to push Aramis before understanding the problem, but he sees them going in circles unless discussion is helped by consumption. Ultimately if Aramis refuses, Athos will honor his wishes.

“I’m not some pup that can’t hold their liquor.” Aramis says angrily. “Getting me drunk so I’ll say something that you will finally accept is not very gentlemanly.”

“You’ve been hiding something for a while and I’m not talking about sleeping with the Queen.”

Furious eyes bore into his. “Athos. For years we watched as you attempted to drown your mistakes. We picked you up, took you home. Never questioned. We were just there in case you wanted us.” Aramis lowers his eyes and shakes his head. “But you expect me to share. Why? Because you command it?” Aramis adds bitterly. He tips his head against the wall, looking at the ceiling. “I apologize. That wasn’t fair of me.” He sighs. “Seems I’m destined to fail at this vow after all.” Then drains his mug and leaves it on the floor.

“We won’t force you to confess anythin’.” Porthos says as he fills Aramis’s mug. “This is us bein’ here for you. With a small push. I’ve never seen you this closed off before.”

Aramis nods, his head still against the wall.

Athos take three large swallows before refilling his cup. “You’re right. I should have told you about … Milady, Thomas. It would have saved us a lot of confusion.”

“And pain,” adds Porthos.

He inclines his head and gives Porthos a small smile. He will never be free of his past with Milady, but he has moved on enough to find some enjoyment in the present. While wine will always be an escape, he doesn’t feel an all-encompassing need to drown out everything swirling in his mind.

Instead he focuses on the recent changes in his life: overseeing the Musketeers, a married d’Artagnan, Porthos. But with Aramis’s absence, he feels something is missing and he wants to feel whole.

They drink in silence, each seemingly content to allow the day to end and the wine settle in their bodies. Athos’s plan was not to get blindly drunk, just to loosen them up. 

The time away seems to have created this chasm between them. Athos isn’t sure why as the length of time is significantly shorter than some of the missions they were assigned to separately. All the years where Athos held himself apart from them, drinking, fumbling through the morning hours, he always felt the bond they share was strong and knew that if he needed them, they would be there. 

Aramis seems reluctant to share and Athos can only assume he doesn’t believe they will support him. He understands that as well, part of the reason he never shared was because he didn’t want to see the disgust or disappointment in their eyes. He was mistaken and should’ve had more faith; how Aramis can forget his own words spoken just a year before he can’t understand. 

Perhaps this feels so different because it is Aramis removing himself. His heart is open to everyone, sometimes too much in the case of the Queen. And Athos finds himself sighing through his thoughts. They relied on Aramis to pull them back together after one of them needed space. This time it was Aramis that needed them and they failed to notice.

Athos swallows some more wine. So much transpired for the three of them in a relatively short amount of time. Aramis almost lost his life; the fate of the Queen was unknown. Milady had wormed her way inside his thoughts and heart once more. Porthos struggled with the truth of his father and learning of Aramis’s lies; all the while d’Artagnan was blinded by the need to save Constance and be with her. They each turned inward as they fought to control events and emotions, leaving Aramis alone, making vows and promises to a God that most of them didn’t hold in much faith.

In the end perhaps d’Artagnan was right, they should have stopped Aramis from leaving, but Athos thought it was the right thing to do. Aramis had made the decision and sought their support. Athos saw fear poorly hidden in Aramis’s eyes that day and he decided to support him without question. He gave Aramis what he thought he wanted.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you two?” Aramis asks breaking the silence. 

Athos looks up from his wine and captures Aramis’s gaze for only a moment before he looks away. Athos is now leaning against the large table leg while Porthos is lying on his back but he rolls over and looks up. “He’s Captain, I’m me.” 

Aramis chuckles. “Alright.”

Athos seizes the opening though. “Do you like it here?”

Aramis shrugs and looks down into his wine as though the answer is there. “It’s pleasant enough.” He looks up at Athos. “I miss things.” He drains whatever is left in his mug and raises his hand. “Wine. Didn’t think I’d miss it as much as I do. Fighting. I miss the fighting, or maybe it’s just the action of having something to do physically.” He’s silent a moment and grin. “No, it’s the fighting. I was very good at it.”

Athos leans across and pours more wine and tops himself and Porthos off as well. He shifts until he is leaning on his left elbow and his lower body is half off the nest they’ve created. He’s watching Aramis over the back of Porthos who is still lying down with his head braced on his hand.

Aramis puts down his wine and looks at his hands. “It’s peaceful here, that’s not a lie. And I enjoy it. But, it’s lonely. I don’t relate to these men and I find I don’t want to since they are so pure, and I am not. I find I don’t want to ruin anything else. So I stay here.” He gestures around the room.

“This is a prison.” Athos says. 

“I can leave.”

“What do you think you’re going to ruin?” 

Aramis shrugs. “Everything.”

Porthos sits up and moves closer to Aramis so Athos follows his lead.

There are many kinds of drunks. Athos is morose and quiet, Porthos is full of anger or boisterous glee, and Aramis is usually joyous. It occurs to Athos that he’s only ever seen Aramis blindingly drunk a handful of times. He has always envied Aramis his ability to cope in other ways, to show an outward happiness more often than not, even if he was hurting inside. Seeing Aramis behaving more like him, makes Athos’s head throb.

No one should feel like that, least of all a person with an open heart like Aramis.

He realizes, in a moment of clarity when he drinks just the right amount, that Aramis hasn’t been himself since the announcement of the Dauphin. In hindsight, allowing Aramis space to deal with the birth of the child had been a mistake. Athos knows, and if he is honest with himself, he knew at the time of the failed mission that Aramis lied. Athos blinks and looks at Aramis in a different light and sees the self-loathing practically oozing from every pore but his musing is interrupted by Porthos.

“You are a man in the King’s regiment, you help everyone.” Porthos reaches out to put a hand on Aramis’s knee. Aramis accepts the gesture for only a moment before he shifts to allow his arms to dangle off his knees.

“You really aren’t aware of everything that’s happened.” Aramis is so focused elsewhere that he doesn’t realize Porthos withdraws his hand, nor does he see the dark cloud on Porthos’s face. Athos reaches out and presses a hand to his back and Porthos sags slightly under his touch.

Aramis sighs. “I thought I was in love once, she was everything I wanted. Thought I wanted. But Isabelle knew what I didn’t and made the decision to leave me. I searched for her but didn’t find her until the convent. And because of my actions, she’s dead.”

“She made her choice to project Her Majesty; that is not on you. They knew the danger,” Athos says.

“They had no idea the danger! We should have insisted that they leave.”

“We would be dead, and so would the Queen. Don’t minimize her sacrifice, her actions helped save us all.”

Aramis picks up his wine and drains the cup. “I found a family with the Musketeers. With you. And it was good. I was successful, happy, and content. Then through a series of decisions people died or were put in mortal danger.” 

Porthos is angry. “Aramis, you didn’t kill anyone.”

“Adele is dead because of me,” Aramis says staring at Porthos.

“Dead? When did that happen?” Porthos looks to Athos when Aramis remains quiet.  
 He clears his throat. “The Cardinal’s summons months ago was to show Aramis Adele’s memorial.”

Porthos looks hurt as this is something else he didn’t know. Athos presses his hand harder against Porthos’s back and bunches up the shirt in his fist. Not telling him was an oversight; Athos didn’t intentionally withhold the information. It just seemed less important compared with other events happening.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Porthos says.

“Not a shining moment.”

“Yes but, I don’t understand why you suffered alone.”

“We each had our own problems.” Aramis stands and walks to the window and gazes out. It’s dark now and Athos knows there is nothing to see. “I put the Queen and the Dauphin in danger by my lack of control around them. I caused innocent people to be killed. I used…” He stops himself and shakes his head. “I lied to you. To Court. To God. I am not fit to be a Musketeer, to be a man of honor.”

Athos meets Porthos’s eyes and sees the sadness he is feeling reflected. He watches Porthos bow his head and scratch his fingers through the mess of curls. Athos knows the way he treated Aramis like a child each time he and the Queen interacted did not help the situation. He saw the misery inside Aramis each time the Queen walked away and yet Aramis kept setting himself up to be hurt over and over again. Athos is quite familiar with that feeling and he didn’t want that for Aramis. He thought his unsolicited advice would help deter Aramis.

“You did what you had to in order to keep the Queen and her son safe,” Athos says. “You had to decide between the truth and saving lives; you couldn’t trust Rochefort’s word that he would let her go.”

“I know why I lied,” Aramis replies as the words are forced through a clenched jaw. “Doesn’t validate what I did. Doesn’t make it easier for me to accept. I swore on the Holy word; my word means nothing.”

Porthos stands and comes to rest behind Aramis. “I know you. You don’t go out wantin’ to hurt people. Other people are involved here.”

Aramis turns slightly so he can see them and he glances toward Porthos. “If I hadn’t slept with the Queen everything would be different.”

Athos steps between Porthos to grab Aramis’s shirt and pushes him against the wall. “Forget about the Queen! She is not as innocent as you paint her. You think you’re the only person that has done wrong here. You are not.”  
   
“Athos,” Porthos warns.  
   
Aramis seems confused but doesn’t break eye contact with Athos. He doesn’t see it, probably can’t but it’s bold and bright in Athos’s mind. He pushes harder against Aramis’s chest and speaks very low. “The Queen had been trying to conceive for years. She desperately wanted a child. You were an opportunity.”  
   
Porthos leans closer and brushes against Athos’s arm. “We’re not sayin’ she doesn’t care. But she also knew you’d never claim the child, you’d never put her in danger.”

“You’ve discussed this?” Aramis asks sounding lost and he continues to stare at Athos who can feel the heart under his hand beating rapidly. He never wanted to reveal his fears over what happened at the convent, but he couldn’t have Aramis thinking he was the sole person to blame. It takes two to make a baby. Aramis’s eyes shutter as the tension leaves him and Athos thinks the only reason he’s still standing is because Athos is holding him against the wall.  
   
“I won’t believe it.” Aramis says quietly. “She’s a good person, kind hearted…”  
   
Porthos interrupts. “So are you.”

Aramis shakes his head and knocks Athos’s arms away and staggers toward the door. He turns around and raises his hands. “I’m not listening to this anymore.” He stops as his back connects with the door.

Athos is not willing to let this go and takes several steps forward. “Did you seduce her?”

Aramis reaches behind him to slide the bolt aside and opens the door, so Athos stops moving.  
   
“Did you approach her?”  
   
“No,” Aramis says quietly. 

“Can’t you believe that it’s possible she seduced you? That perhaps she acted selfishly as well, wanting comfort from you just as much as you wanting comfort from her?” He hears Porthos move behind him and then feels a warm hand on his waist.

Aramis’s eyes fill with anguish as he shakes his head and leaves the building, closing the door behind him. Athos sighs and drops his chin. This did not go as he had thought. His heart is pounding, his head is swimming and all they managed to do is drive Aramis away. He feels Porthos’s arms come around his waist and his head rest on his shoulder, giving comfort the only way he can.

Athos lifts his head and scrubs at his eyes as he barely contains the frustrated growl that wants to escape when he catches a glimpse of Aramis through the window. He tenses and Porthos lifts his head in confusion and turns in time to see Aramis’s outline move deeper into the shadows of the night.

“Not our best decision, eh?”

“No, it was not.”

A puff of air moves the hair along his neck as Porthos sighs and steps back. “So what do we do?”

Athos rubs his fingers across his forehead. “We wait until morning for him to return. We apologize, we ask him to return with us once more and honor his answer, then head back.”

“I’m not leavin’ without him.”

“We may not have a choice,” Athos says and pats Porthos’s arm. He makes sure the door remains unlocked and the two of them lie on the nest of cloth and fall asleep.

*

The next morning Athos awakes with Porthos pressed against his back and Aramis sitting against the wall as he was the night before, watching them.

“Just ‘you’re Captain and he’s himself’ eh?” Aramis asks and raises his eyebrows. “Athos. Please.”

Athos smirks. “Yesterday was not our finest hour.”

The small grin fades from Aramis’s face. “She didn’t use me.”

It’s Athos’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “You must admit the coincidence is strong.”

“She’s the mother of my…”

“She’s the mother of the next King of France,” Athos interrupts and sits up, dislodging Porthos, who grumbles and rolls over. 

“It goes against everything I am to abandon the child,” says Aramis quietly.

“I know. But you must.” 

“You know it’s for the best,” Porthos adds from somewhere behind him.

Aramis shrugs. “Doesn’t help with the pain.” He stands up and goes to the corner and comes out with a sack which he begins to pack. “We should get moving if we want to camp somewhere easy for the night.”

Porthos perks up and goes to him. “You comin’ with us?”

“It’s been made clear with your visit, that I’m not fit to be here. Not sure I’m fit to be a Musketeer either. You may try to convince me to return to the regiment on our travels. I promise nothing.”

Porthos grabs him tightly. Aramis is slow to bring his arms around him, but he finally does and pats his back. Athos nods and begins to pack up.

*

Their journey is quiet as Aramis keeps private counsel, following behind them across the land. Athos sees the difference in Porthos immediately once Aramis shared his intention of traveling with them. Porthos beams from his saddle, so filled with joy that Athos is smiling in spite of the gnawing feeling in his gut that Aramis is just appeasing them. Not to lead them on, but is acting out of fear, like a trapped animal might; trusting at first but quick to attack. It’s why he thinks Aramis remains quiet.

Athos did wish their conversations had gone better. It was never their intention to push Aramis so hard, but he hadn’t expected to receive so much resistance and hidden loathing. He looks toward the sun to gauge the time of day and wishes he was able to read Aramis half as well. He thought he could. He thought Porthos could. Now he accepts that their skill is less than assumes as Aramis continues to succeed at hiding so much from them. 

It’s not a secret that he drinks when he’s struggling with emotions. Porthos spars with someone, but Aramis never seems to dwell on negativity. Athos would join anyone who proclaims Aramis always has a happy disposition. What does that say about Athos? That he never knew his friend as well as he thought? That he too believed what lay on the surface instead of providing a secure ear or shoulder to lean on?

Athos huffs a breath and shakes his head. He really should have known better. Aramis has shown a darker side before but it never lasted long. He kept waiting for it to pass like it always did before, except this time it didn’t.

“You’re thinkin’ loudly,” Porthos says in a soft voice, as soft as possible and still able to be heard over the sound of horses.

“It’s astounding how silence and reexamination of events can enlighten you.”

“Mmm. What have you learned?”

Athos glances over his shoulder quickly and decides that Aramis is out of range of overhearing. “I always thought Aramis handled all emotions well. Dealt with issues but reconciled them and moved on.”

Porthos nods. “And now?”

“Now I think he’s just as poor at dealing with certain events as the rest of us.”

Several minutes of silence pass before Porthos responds and it startles Athos slightly.

“I tried talkin’ to him, months ago. I could tell somethin’ was wrong, he was too quick to temper, too withdrawn.” Porthos shifts the reigns in his hands before continuing. “Lookin’ back I can see that he steered the conversation back to me. I’d like to say I saw it then, but I was too angry with the Captain and I allowed him to distract me.”

“We all allowed ourselves to be distracted.”

“Yeah but some of what Aramis did was because he couldn’t tell me about the Queen. He’s never lied to me before. Evaded but never really lied about somethin’ so important.” Porthos hangs his head and lowers his voice even more. “Not sure how to get past it. ‘Specially with him lying now.”

“He was protecting the Queen.”

“I know that,” Porthos growls and Athos can see him take a few breaths. “Doesn’t make it easier.”

“We’ve all hidden things.”

“Not all of us.”

Athos glances at him. “Some of us don’t think we’re worthy of support.”

Porthos meets his eyes and reaches across to grasp his shoulder, grinning even while his eyes are filled with sadness.

Athos wonders at the pureness of Porthos, always there to support his family no matter what. Always truthful, it’s why their deception of the events at the convent hurt him so much. If it were Porthos, he would have found a way to share, to accept help carrying the burden. Athos is not built like that, and in this case it wasn’t his secret to share. He never expected Aramis to go completely silent. He’d have wagered Aramis confessing and then swearing Porthos to forget afterward, because Aramis shares everything. The consequences were too large though, Athos can see that, knows that if Aramis could have changed that morning and kept Athos himself from witnessing, he would have. 

It was then that Aramis started to change. For all his boisterousness and bravado, Aramis knew he had gone too far that morning, but it was too late; all he could do was go forward and forget. But then the announcement of the Dauphin happened and Aramis slowly started to come undone. 

Again Athos wishes he handled things differently. That he or Porthos forced Aramis to reveal the thoughts swirling in his head, but Aramis shuttered himself away to contain the damage of his actions to only himself. Admirable for sure, but Athos can’t help grimace as he realizes how self sacrificing it was as well. 

“I’m going on ahead to scout for a place to camp.” Athos doesn’t wait for a response and spurs his horse forward. Perhaps Porthos can soften Aramis before camp and they can try again to convince him to rejoin. Athos knows this is their last chance and feels sure that Aramis will separate from them in the morning and disappear if they fail in convincing him. He’s not sure how they can assure him of his worthiness.

*

The camp is set up quickly, the three of them falling into their past routine smoothly. No one comments that the sun is barely starting its descent and they have already stopped for the night. Athos chose the area with care as the ground is bright with green grass, mostly flat and surrounded by trees. There’s no reason to hide their presence so they can enjoy a limited view of the hills as well by staying closer to the tree line than is normal.

While Aramis hunts for fish in a nearby stream, he and Porthos finish the camp by setting up the bed rolls, and Porthos seems to purposefully lay out the materials close together. Athos catches his eyes and raises his eyebrows, questioning.

Porthos grins sadly and shrugs. “Makes it harder for him to distance himself.”

By the time Aramis returns with the fish the fire is burning and they have removed their doublets and are sitting on the ground. 

“Caught it and cleaned it, someone else can cook it,” Aramis says and he places the fish in the pan.

“Seems fair,” Porthos says with a smile. 

Aramis turns and locates his things and Athos notices a slight hesitation before going over to pile his leather and hat on the ground. Aramis is barely put together, his pants aren’t tied, there’s a gap at the top where the small clothes are clearly visible, his shirt hangs off his shoulder and his feet are bare. 

Porthos clears his throat and Athos’s gaze darts from Aramis to Porthos’s very amused look and raised eyebrows. He squints and looks to the ground so that he isn’t caught staring again but he can hear Porthos’s soft chuckle. 

It’s not a secret that he and Porthos find Aramis attractive, though neither acts on it. There have been many discussions involving what would happen if Aramis returned and each time neither of them could see a future where the three of them weren’t together. Athos was never so blatant about his appreciation before; he blames Porthos for his lapse in control and the easy way Porthos can smile and draw people out.

Athos rises, gathers the plates and takes them to the stream for a quick rinse and when he returns the sun is completely set. Aramis hasn’t moved from leaning against a trunk across from where Porthos lounges on a bed roll. The bedding is so close together he can’t tell them apart but he sits down close to Porthos, leaving the rinsed items stacked near their packs.

The fire crackles softly when a twig is thrown into it and Athos looks up to see Aramis picking up another one.

“This silence is putting me on edge,” Aramis says. He twists the small piece of wood until it snaps. “I’m sure there is more you have to say.”

“Would any of it convince you to rejoin us?” Athos asks, second guessing himself.

“Why would you want me?”

Athos is stunned into silence. How can Aramis think there is a question of their desire to have him back? He glances at Porthos who’s frowning and looking confused.

“Why wouldn’t we?” asks Porthos as he sits up.

“There is such a thing as too many lies. I believe I’ve used up all of mine. You can’t possibly trust my words or actions.”

Athos can feel Porthos vibrate with anger at those words, but he can understand Aramis’s point of view. He doesn’t agree with it, but can see it.

“If it were anyone but you saying that, I’d hit ‘em,” Porthos responds.

“Does not make it less true. Shall I make you a list?” Aramis asks and stands up and begins to slowly pace the camp. “Perhaps then you will stop insisting on something you can’t possible want. And we can all move on.”

Athos stands because he won’t feel as though he’s being lectured to like a child, even if he might be; he feels Porthos stand with him. Aramis walks in a controlled gait on the other side of the fire, it’s the kind of calm that puts Athos on edge. He can see that Aramis is angry as his whole body is tense.

“Porthos, I kept my … liaison with the Queen from you because I couldn’t face the disappointment in your eyes. You warned me off but I dismissed you. Yes I also did it to protect you, the less people that knew the better. But if we’re being honest, and that is what you both demand of me, I didn't want you to look at me differently.”

Athos hears Porthos take a breath as though he was to speak, but Athos takes his hand and jerks his head slightly to convey he should remain silent. 

“The day you took an arrow, I missed my shot because I was distracted by an infant crying. That’s when the Dauphin was sick and I was preoccupied. I caused the mission to fail, the death of those innocent people, you to be hurt and kidnapped.” He pauses in his movement and looks at them, the shadows of the fire flickering across his face. “I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you in anyway. If I was stronger I would have found a way.”

Aramis continues. “I then lied to Athos, once again because I couldn’t take responsibility for my own actions, that I didn’t want to see disgust reflected back at me.”

Porthos squeezes his hand as Aramis starts speaking faster, the words seemingly forced from him in his anger, or perhaps fear, yet he remains outwardly calm. Athos starts to feel this has less to do with healing and more to do with some misguided attempt at goodbye. Leave it to Aramis to actually confess instead of explain.

“I should have been there for you more regarding your bastard father, been there more for the return of Milady. I could see how twisted you both were but could do nothing to stop it.”

Aramis walks closer to them and stops to stare at the fire and his voice gets softer.

They still hold hands and part of Athos feels ridiculous but he pushes that aside because it’s giving him the strength he needs to stay quiet and listen and really hear what Aramis is saying, even if his heart is breaking.

“I didn’t stay away from the Queen. The undercover mission, she was there and needed protection. We were alone, I reminded her that we shouldn’t but it didn’t stop us. Constance saw us; I endangered her because of my lack of control. Each time I saw her I allowed myself to dig the hole just that much deeper.”

Aramis runs a hand through his hair and exhales loudly before turning toward them. “But Marguerite, she is my worst sin. I am an open person with my partners, always. Not this time. I deceived her from the start. Her attractiveness was not why I approached her, or why I stayed.”

He balls his hands into fists and finishes. “She fell in love with me. I saw it happening and said nothing. Continued to use her to my own gain. When I couldn’t deal with the guilt, I tried to clarify and break it off. It was then she knew I used her.” 

Aramis looks up at them. “I am not fit to be a man of honor as I have none.”

Porthos reaches out and tries to grab hold of Aramis’s arm, but he moves away from the gesture, so Athos grasps the other arm as it swings close. Aramis goes still, head bowed but the words come out quickly.

“I had to convince her to bed me, calm her fears. I am a selfish man and my actions lead to her being in an impossible position. Lead her to betray me and her Queen out of anger and self-preservation. I lead her to her death.”

Aramis looks up and tears fill his eyes. The sight is distressing because Athos has only glimpsed this level of emotion from Aramis a few times. 

Athos squeezes the arm he’s still holding while Porthos holds his fingers so tightly he has a thought they may bruise.

“This is the man I am. I am tainted by these actions. A man not to be trusted to be in anyone’s confidence. I spoil anyone around me.” He steps forward and looks between their eyes as the tears leave tracks on his cheeks. “So tell me, how can you stand to have me so near, after everything I have done?”

Athos swallows around the lump in his throat. This is not something that can be fixed in one night. He opens his mouth to say something, unsure of what, when Porthos makes a sound as though someone punched him in the gut. His hand is dropped as Porthos pulls Aramis into his arms, he tries to resist but Porthos’s arms are wrapped tightly around him. After several moments Aramis seems to accept the embrace and leans against him, bringing his arms around to rest at Porthos’s waist. 

Athos can hear the harsh breaths that are half muffled against Porthos’s neck. He steps forward and lays his hands on each of them and gently pushes them toward the bed rolls.

Once on the ground, Aramis hides his face in the crook of his arm while Porthos drapes an arm over Aramis’s side and tucks his hand inside his shirt so it’s skin against skin. Athos starts to pet Aramis’s hair, remembering that once soothed him while he was ill. He meets Porthos’s eyes over his head and feels the helplessness reflected there. 

When it’s obvious Aramis has nothing more to say they both relax into the ground and allow the crackling of the fire to lull them into dozing. 

Athos isn’t sure how much time passes before he feels Aramis’s head move under his hand, which is still resting in his hair.

Barely a whisper he hears, “Now you know why I can’t return to the Musketeers.”

Athos sighs heavily and squints at him. “I understand you are having problems. No one left me at the tavern, someone always stayed to bring me home. Why are you so set to lead a solitary life?”

Aramis quirks a grin and raises his eyes above his head toward Athos’s other hand which is intertwined with Porthos’s. “That’s why. I am happy you found each other.” He says with a smile, and Athos knows he means it, he is truly happy for them, but what he doesn’t grasp is that they aren’t complete without him. So Athos acts before he can overthink and kisses him. His free hand slides down to Aramis’s neck as his lips press gently against a slack mouth.

Athos holds still for a moment before pressing a little more and swiping his tongue across Aramis’s lips. They move slightly, as though he isn’t sure he’s welcome to kiss back, of where he’s supposed to fit. As he nips at Aramis’s bottom lip, he feels Porthos squeeze his hand and a puff of air is exhaled from Aramis, which he thinks is due to Porthos squeezing Aramis around the waist. With another drag of his tongue across a partially opened mouth, Athos pulls back.

Questioning eyes look back. “What are you doing?” Aramis asks quietly.

Porthos leans forward so his mouth is next to Aramis’s ear. “We want you to be with us.” He places several kisses along his jaw and rests his face against Aramis.

Aramis continues to look at Athos. “You don’t need to do this.”

Athos moves his hand so that it’s resting against Porthos’s cheek and looks at both of them. “You’re part of this, even when you aren’t with us.”

“That is not true,” Aramis protests.

“It is.” Porthos promises. “We’ve talked about it. We missed you.”

Athos adds, “It never felt balanced.”

Aramis smiles before he turns serious. “I’m flattered but I think you may be making a rash decision.”

He shakes his head. “No. As Porthos said, we’ve discussed it.”

Aramis laughs and smiles sadly. “I would love to but…” 

His words are cut off when Porthos hugs him tighter. “Don’t finish it. Just come back with us, you will find yourself again and when the time comes, we’ll be there.”

Aramis pats Porthos’s arm and nods his head. Nothing more is said as they shift slightly and get comfortable for the night. After a few moments, Athos feels Aramis move closer and sees his hand lying between them. Athos reaches for it and laces their fingers together. He feels his hair being ruffled and glances up to see Porthos’s smiling face and bright eyes.

A part of himself slips into place as the three of them lie together. With his new appointment and changed relationship with Porthos, missing Aramis is something he willed himself to ignore. And now that Aramis is with them, he can feel just how much he missed the man.

He finds himself with a small grin on his face as they relax into sleep knowing Aramis is once again part of them. The family he’s chosen is complete once more.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :-)


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